


Chemical Reaction

by Nary



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Altean Empire, Art, Betrayal, Court Politics, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Galra Big Bang, M/M, Magic, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Power Dynamics, Rebels, Science, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: Kolivan is torn between his loyalty to Empress Allura and the long-buried memories of the destruction of his home. Will he side with what remains of his people, or his beloved ruler?





	Chemical Reaction

_Fire was falling from the sky. It lit up the laboratory like a sunrise, but one that would only bring terror and death. Daibazaal was done for, its armies vanquished, its rulers slain. What hope remained? To escape, find a ship and slip past the Altean fleet somehow? Impossible. To hide would only mean waiting for death to come upon him in secret, alone. His face stung from the cut that had been left by shattered glass, and he wiped blood out of his eyes so that he could see. He was a Galra, and he was not going to go out cowering in the dark. Grasping his knife in one bloodstained hand, he fumbled for the communicator with the other, and sent out a message to anyone who might still be able to hear him..._

The gentle flow of chemicals that brought him from sleep to wakefulness at the correct hour stirred Kolivan, and he sat up in bed. The room was bright, but only with the usual morning glow. It had been ages since he'd dreamed of Daibazaal, and he rose to start his day with a slightly unsettled feeling and an ache nestled behind his eyes. Dreams like the one that was already fading from his conscious mind should have been prevented by the programming of his neural implants. As he braided his hair, he made a mental note to check them later, in case there was some imbalance or corruption in the mix of chemicals and hormones that made up his biorecord that had allowed that unexpected nightmare to slip through. His schedule would be a busy one, as usual, and he couldn't allow himself to be distracted by such a pointless fragment of memory.

"Good morning, sir," his assistant Aktell said as he entered the lab, bowing slightly as she handed him a tablet with the results from the experiments that had been running overnight. Kolivan scanned them swiftly, looking for any abnormalities or unusual patterns that stood out. It seemed like some of the subjects were experiencing higher levels of stress, perhaps from the recent alterations he'd made to their regimens, but they were mostly within acceptable parameters. Only a few had succumbed to the increased dosage of scourium, and they were ones who had already been weak.

"Increase their levels of lathrazene by an additional ten percent, " he told Aktell, who nodded eagerly as she made a note of his instructions. "It should help moderate the outbursts of anger and anxiety."

"Yes, sir," she said. "Will you be viewing the subjects now?" She shifted her weight from foot to foot, as though she was nervous or perhaps excited to show him something. "I noticed some unusual patterns in some subjects' brainwaves that might be of interest..."

"Later," Kolivan told her brusquely. As always she was eager to please - a bit too eager for this time of the morning. She was a bright, promising scientist, but sometimes she grated on Kolivan's nerves. "Unless it is urgent, I'll make my rounds later."

"No sir," she said, her face falling slightly. "It's not urgent." He turned to go, but she spoke up again, stopping him in his tracks. "There was an inspection yesterday while you were meeting with the representatives from the alchemists' guild. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I thought you might want to review the inspector's report... He had some insights that might be useful. I've placed it with your files." 

"I have some work I need to take care of in my office," Kolivan replied, his headache intensifying at the thought of having to go over some bureaucrat's meaningless report. It wasn't as though any of them truly understood the work he was doing here. Biocontrol was the foundation of the Altean Empire, and he was its foremost practitioner. "I'll review it later. After they've been on the increased lathrazene for a few vargas, then I'll take a look at the subjects." 

He made his escape, leaving Aktell to stammer something after him that he didn't quite make out before the door to his office slid closed behind him. It was a sparse room, especially by Altean standards - they preferred a more ornate style of decor that didn't appeal to Kolivan's taste. The sole ornament he hung on his wall was a knife, its blade elegantly curved and its grip worn. It was perhaps barbaric to keep such a souvenir of ancient times, with its implications of a violent past that was long since over - the Empire was peaceful now, and had been for thousands of years, in no small part thanks to his work. But he considered it a useful reminder of how far they had come, and the savagery they had left behind. 

Sinking into his chair, he sighed in relief as he settled in to look over his own readings, calling his biorecords up with a simple wave of his hand, so the information seemed to float in front of him, suspended in midair. He had barely begun to peruse the data, however, when he received an incoming message. It was on the highest-security Imperial channel, and so of course he answered it immediately.

Empress Allura's face appeared in the center of his information display, as beautiful as ever. His anti-aging treatments ensured her continued youthful good looks and vitality, and even after ten thousand years, she could still pass for a woman just barely out of adolescence. So when she said, "Kolivan, I require your services," his first thought was to wonder whether she'd noticed a faint wrinkle or unexpected twinge, and needed a touch-up.

"Of course, your majesty," he said, "how can I be of assistance?"

"The Victory Ball tonight - you haven't forgotten it, have you?" 

He had not, although it was far from his favorite activity. The annual celebration of Altea's conquests was an elaborate celebration, but not one he ever felt particularly welcome at, for obvious reasons. All the members of Altean high society would be there, and he found it a frivolous, time-consuming, and rather pointless exercise in showing off for each other, as well as more than a little tasteless. "Of course not, your majesty," he assured her. Perhaps his first guess, that she wanted a little cosmetic enhancement before the grandiose event, wasn't so far off. "How could I forget the biggest social event of the season?"

"How indeed," she replied. There was a light, teasing tone in her voice. "My usual escort is unable to join me this evening. I would like you to accompany me instead."

This was more of a shock, and Kolivan had to struggle not to let his mouth gape open in surprise. "Is Prince Lotor unwell?" he asked, buying himself a few moments to compose himself.

"Prince Lotor is none of your concern," she told him firmly. "I trust that I can count on you to dress appropriately and arrive with plenty of time to spare before my grand entrance."

"I... yes, of course, your majesty," he said. There was no way he could say no to her, after all. It was a tremendous honour she was bestowing upon him. Some would have fought for the privilege of a night on the Empress's arm. Kolivan's own emotions, however, were more clouded. He longed to ask her why she'd chosen him - why of all the possible courtiers and dignitaries in the Empire, she'd picked a Galra scientist to flaunt in front of her guests. 

_Why, of all the lovers who'd shared her bed, had she come back to him?_

"Good. This evening at the sixteenth varga, then. Don't be late." She smiled, and proved that she still had the ability to twist his stomach into knots with a simple nod, before terminating the call.

Of course, after that, Kolivan's plans for the day were completely disrupted. His finest outfit, although suitable for a gentleman of his standing, would not be sufficiently impressive for the Empress's escort. He gave a few more hurried instructions to Aktell, trusting that she could handle any problems that might arise with the research subjects while he was absent, and went out to his tailor for some emergency upgrades. Many other thoughts, even troubling ones, had flown out of his mind at the prospect of receiving Empress Allura's favour, although he did have to wonder, as always, whether she had some ulterior motive in inviting him. 

As his automated carriage dropped him off at the palace, he took a moment to be thankful that once-fashionable zipline entrances were a thing of the past. His dark blue coat, embroidered with intricate patterns of metallic thread, was fitted closely enough through the body that raising his arms above his head might have proved difficult. The sentries had evidently been informed of his arrival, and a pair of them brought him swiftly to an antechamber near the large ballroom, where he would await the Empress.

Guests were already arriving - he could hear them milling about in the adjacent room, their voices echoing off the high ceilings and almost, but not quite, drowning out the music that flowed sinuously through the air. He heard them announced as they entered, their titles meaning little to him, aside from making it abundantly clear that they were all determined to outdo one another with lengthy lists of honours. In an Empire at peace, it was the only form of warfare most of them were allowed. They fought their battles from behind elegant fans and veils, with words and subtle glances, but they were no less deadly. Kolivan despised it, mostly because he had never mastered it. He was too blunt and direct to truly thrive in this court, but his skill and his reputation had allowed him to at least survive, to carve out a niche for himself. 

_Besides_ , he thought to himself, _they need me._

A door slid open behind him, and he turned, expecting to see the Empress in whatever ornate finery she had chosen for the evening. Instead, he was startled to see Prince Lotor, a smirk on his handsome face. There were few other Galra at the Altean court, and in truth the prince was only half-Galra - his features were more delicate, and his height shorter, due to his Altean blood. He was highly esteemed among the Altean courtiers, despite his heritage - they appreciated his cutting wit, his graceful skill on the dance floor, and his good looks. Kolivan suspected, too, that having Lotor as a prominent fixture of the court made them feel tolerant, open-minded, that they could embrace even the son of their greatest enemy and that he in turn had come to see the enlightenment of their ways. Something about him always left Kolivan feeling uneasy, although the Empress certainly trusted him with her favour. Or at least, she had until recently - it would normally have been the prince who would have escorted her tonight, and Kolivan wondered if he had fallen out of favour somehow. And if he had, why was he here now? 

"Prince Lotor," he said, bowing just enough to indicate a modicum of respect. "I wasn't expecting to see you this evening."

"No, I imagine you weren't," the prince replied, leaning languidly back against the wall and crossing his arms. He was certainly not dressed for a ball, wearing instead a casual outfit that looked more suited to the training room than to a high society party. "Don't worry," he added, "I'm not here to fight you over Allura's honour or anything as foolish as that."

"Good," Kolivan replied curtly, biting back the urge to ask him why he was here at all. That curiosity, that show of interest, was probably exactly what he wanted, and there was no need for Kolivan to give it to him.

"Your tailor must have worked quickly to get that ready for tonight," Lotor said, looking over Kolivan's ensemble with an appraising eye. "It suits you. You should dress up more often."

"Thank you," said Kolivan, wary of any possible insult that might have been intended by the words, but not quite able to pinpoint anything overt enough to draw attention. But then, Lotor had been raised in the Altean court since he was a small child - he was far more skillful at their habits of veiled slights than Kolivan was, each word carrying double or even triple meanings for those in the know. Maybe it was that, combined with his Galra features, that made Kolivan uneasy around him. He expected that sort of thing from an Altean noble, but it somehow felt more dishonest coming from a Galra. Or, he reflected, maybe he was judging him too harshly. 

"You look tired, though," the prince continued, his voice filled with a (feigned?) concern. "Did you not sleep well last night?"

Kolivan's eyebrows rose, unable to completely hide his surprise. There was no way that Lotor could know about his nightmare, surely. Maybe instead of finding fault with his clothing, the prince had decided to undermine his confidence in other ways. "I'm fine," he said stubbornly. 

"You're sure? No unpleasant memories keeping you awake, tossing and turning?" Lotor leaned in, with an unusual air of sympathy and commiseration. "After all, it's the anniversary..."

Now Kolivan began to wonder if this was a trap of some kind. Was their conversation being monitored, waiting for him to betray some treasonous sentiment about his homeworld? It was all so long ago now, but that didn't mean that the Alteans had relaxed about the possibility of traitors in their midst. The hoktril and other forms of more subtle bio-manipulation were only the most well-known of their tools to maintain control over their vast empire - surveillance technology and even good old-fashioned spycraft still had their place. "It's nothing," he said with a frown, but the ache behind his eyes, which had subsided earlier, began to throb again. 

"If you say so," Lotor said, shrugging, going back to his usual expression of bored indifference. "I'm sure you're not losing any sleep over it." He turned to leave, but paused, resting his hand on the edge of the doorway. "Vrepit sa, Kolivan. Enjoy the party."

The words were unexpected, and shook Kolivan to his core, although he couldn't show it. The Galra language had been outlawed for so long that to hear it in any context would have felt bizarre, but for it to come from Lotor, who had been barely old enough to talk when his parents had died, when he'd been taken in as an act of mercy by the Alteans, well... that ought to have been impossible. By the time Kolivan had the presence of mind to try and respond, the prince had departed.

"Was that Lotor just leaving?" The Empress's voice was mellifluous, sweet and charming, and Kolivan spun around, concealing his shock with a deep bow that gave him a few valuable moments to compose himself. "I wonder what he was doing here," she said lightly. "I thought he had decided not to attend."

Kolivan stood up, and was once more struck into silence by her beauty. Even though he knew exactly how it was crafted, the means by which she had preserved her youth after ten thousand years, it still had the power to render him speechless. Her long white hair was tied back in a complicated knot, with only a few curls left to frame her flawless face. Her gown was a pale violet confection scattered with tiny jewels, shading to a darker purple the lower it went. It was cut low, leaving her shoulders bare, and billowed into a skirt that was ethereal in its elegance. "You look marvellous, your majesty."

She smiled, flattered. "You don't look so bad yourself." Holding out one small hand, she ran her slender fingers along the sleeve of his coat, tracing the patterns of the embroidery before drawing him closer so that she could take his arm. "Are you ready?"

"Of course," Kolivan said, although he felt far from it. He moved with her towards the entryway that would take them into the ballroom. The sounds of music and celebration swelled as the door opened, and the gleam of the lights reflecting off every polished surface and glinting gemstone was dazzling. 

As the Empress and her escort entered the ballroom, all eyes turned to them, and she paused at the top of the stairs to permit them to gaze upon her. She needed no announcement of her titles, no herald to remind everyone who she was. She was Allura, the supreme ruler of the Altean Empire, and Kolivan knew that, at this moment, absolutely no one was in the room paying attention to him. The musicians sounded a triumphant fanfare to accompany their descent down the stairs to the great domed ballroom, and then transitioned smoothly into a slow, lilting song. 

"Dance with me now," Allura told him, and Kolivan had no choice but to take her in his arms. He always felt too large and ungainly next to her, but she was graceful and moved through the steps so effortlessly that she made him feel less uncomfortable. Even though he didn't have the same love of dancing that the Alteans did, he had learned to go through the correct motions, and he was not unskilled. With Allura held close in his embrace, he could even take some enjoyment from the pointless ritual. Her perfume aroused memories in him that he had tried to suppress, and he found himself wondering once again why she'd invited him here tonight - or what more she might ask of him.

"I always feel so safe with you, Kolivan," she murmured as the dance drew to a close, resting her head against his chest for just a tick. "You're not like the others."

He supposed that was true, at least. He typically stayed aloof from the politics and backstabbing of the court, not siding with any one faction or cadre over another. They all relied on his services, whether cosmetic or otherwise, and as such none of them could afford to slight him too blatantly. It put him in a unique position within the court - and, he knew perfectly well, was part of what had kept him alive. He knew that some of them feared him as well, whether because of his background or the power he wielded (however reluctantly). He had created the hoktril, and so many other technological implants that made the lives of the Alteans longer, easier, more pleasurable - but also fed vast amounts of data into the biocontrol network. With that much information at his clawtips, not to mention the power to tweak a setting here or there or even, it was rumoured, permit a neural implant to "malfunction", it was no wonder that at least the more perceptive of the Alteans were wary of him. 

But of course, not Allura. Whatever power he held, she knew that hers was always greater. 

"I'm honoured," he told her, holding her to him a moment longer than necessary. "And I hope we'll have the opportunity to see one another again before the evening's end."

"Of course we will," she replied, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently before drawing away. Her fingers were cool against his warm skin. "But now I ought to go and spread my favours around, or they'll start to whisper." 

The evening continued much as he'd expected it would. After the Empress went to mingle with other important dignitaries from around the Empire, Kolivan found himself standing around awkwardly. A few of the guests at the party approached him, but he wasn't good at making small talk, and usually they wound up drifting away again after a short while. One, a particularly eager and foolish young man, tried to flirt with him by starting a conversation with, "I've never seen a Galra this close before - is that fur _everywhere_?" Kolivan's death stare was sufficient to dissuade him from pressing the issue, and the young man's friends pulled him away before he could put his foot in his mouth still further.

"Awkward," said a voice at his side, and Kolivan turned to see one of the Empire's military commanders - he couldn't recall her name, but it was difficult to keep them all straight. A few moments before she had been speaking with a slender Altean man with round glasses, but now she had evidently turned her attention to Kolivan. "You'd think they'd never been out in public before."

Kolivan shrugged, unwilling to give this unfamiliar woman any insight into his own embarrassment. He knew that he was considered "exotic" by some in the court, who were sheltered enough to have encountered few people who weren't Altean. At least as a member of the military, this young woman had presumably visited other worlds, and wasn't as amazed by meeting someone who didn't resemble herself. "They are young," he said by way of demonstrating that he was willing to overlook their rudeness.

"Yes, but they should still know better," she said. "After all, you're not merely a Galra - you're a highly respected scientist, a student of the great Honerva, and one of the Empress's confidants."

"You seem to know a great deal about me," Kolivan said casually. "But I know very little of you."

She acknowledged the truth of his statement with a respectful nod of her head. "I'm an admirer of your work," she said. "My name is Commander Hira."

"I don't recall seeing you about," Kolivan said. "Are you recently returned to the court?"

"I've been stationed in various outposts, most recently patrolling in the Namakon system," Hira replied. "There is always work to be done to preserve the stability of the Empire. But I truly believe that your innovations, your genius, are what have allowed the Empire to keep the peace for as long as we have. I wished to offer you my gratitude, and my admiration." She offered him her hand, and bowed to graze her lips across his knuckles when he accepted.

Kolivan began to wonder if, in her rather formal way, she was flirting with him as much as the previous young man had been. It would be a bold move, trying to seduce the Empress's companion for the evening, but then he supposed military commanders were required to be bold. This, however, was verging on foolhardy. "I appreciate your thanks," he said, carefully withdrawing his hand from her grasp, "but it is not necessary. I have only done my duty to the Empress - much like you." He hoped this would be a subtle reminder of their respective positions here, and of who outranked them both. 

"Of course," she said. He thought he detected a faint coldness in her tone that hadn't been there before, but perhaps he was imagining it. "Still, it was an honour to meet you at last. Perhaps we'll see one another again before I return to my post." She gave a slight bow and withdrew to join her companion with the glasses, leaving Kolivan faintly puzzled, but mostly relieved to have fended off another admirer.

At least the food was excellent, Kolivan thought as he sampled various delicacies from the trays that circulated, held aloft by automated waiter drones. It was certainly better than the nutritional paste he would have had at home on his own - or, equally likely, hunched over his desk at the office, reviewing test results and planning for the following day's experiments. He thought he noticed Commander Hira and her associate continuing to glance in his direction occasionally, but dismissed it as an overactive wariness that always came from mingling with large groups of people. 

"Splendid, isn't it?" Coran, the Empress's oldest advisor, stood to the other side of the pillar on which Kolivan was leaning. He had a glass of sparkling nunvill in his hand, and his silver mustache was curled to two perfect points. Unlike most of the Altean court, he had allowed himself to age visibly, and now seemed quite elderly in comparison to almost everyone else here.

"It's quite something," Kolivan agreed politely. Coran was one of the few people who had the Empress's complete trust, and he had earned his position of respect, even though he didn't hold an official title in the Empire's vast governmental or military structure. While some of the younger courtiers poked fun at him behind his back, Kolivan had always found him wise and insightful - and he knew that, despite his cheerful, even foolish, appearance, the old man was incredibly dangerous, skilled in many forms of combat, commanded an extensive network of spies, and would protect the Empress with his life. It was worth being on favourable terms with him, and Kolivan had always tried to stay in his good graces.

"You don't usually attend these affairs," Coran said. He took a sip of his drink, then continued, "What brings you here tonight?"

"The Empress invited me," Kolivan told him. There was almost no other reason that would have brought him willingly to such an occasion, and surely Coran knew that. Besides, he couldn't have missed their grand entrance. 

Coran nodded. "Why do you think she did that?" His tone sounded faintly paternal, like he was hoping Kolivan would notice something, put some pieces together on his own, without having to have whatever it was spelled out for him. 

Frowning, Kolivan shrugged. "Prince Lotor was unavailable, and she needed an escort. Someone who would be a... a safe choice." 

"Is that what you are?" Coran eyed him doubtfully. "Safe?"

"I'm not wrapped up in court politics," said Kolivan pointedly. "Attending the ball with me isn't showing favour to one faction or another."

"That might be so," Coran agreed. "But I'd say you're very far from safe." The spymaster nodded graciously and stepped away into the crowd before Kolivan could think of a response to that, or ask him just what precisely he meant. 

It was just as well, though - Empress Allura was making her way back over to him, trailing a string of admirers in her wake. Kolivan stood up straighter, then bowed as she approached. She smiled and offered her hand to him. "Come," she said. "Join me for a special commemoration of our victory."

Kolivan was expecting perhaps a toast to the glory of Altea, or a speech from one of the generals who would ramble on about the great military triumphs of the past. Instead, Allura led him to the center of the room, beneath the soaring dome. The music fell silent, the dancers coming to a stop and forming a circle around the Empress who was the center of their universe. Allura smiled, waiting for a moment until she knew she had their attention. Then with a simple, commanding gesture, she drew everyone's gaze upwards. The projection of a starry sky shifted, changing to zoom in on one star, then closer in again, focusing on one planet. 

Kolivan's heart sank as he recognized it as Daibazaal. Daibazaal as it had been ten thousand years ago. His home, once.

"Let us always remember," Allura said, her voice ringing out over the assembled crowd, "what it is we celebrate today. We honour those who died to preserve our freedom and save us from tyranny, including my late father, King Alfor. We cherish their memories, and rejoice with our comrades who survived. Let the cruelty of Zarkon never be forgotten!" She raised her hand, pointing to the long-dead planet overhead, and at her cue, there was a flash of light, then a bloom of red like blood spreading across the sky. Daibazaal was recreated with illusions and holoprojections that conjured it back from the dead only to kill it a second time.

The crowd applauded the sight as though it was a fireworks display. So many lives snuffed out in an instant, Kolivan thought bitterly, and now it was nothing more than entertainment. He was reminded all too vividly of his dream the night before. Then he became aware that Allura was watching him - even as the guests looked up at the shattered ruin of the planet, her eyes were turned in his direction. The look on her face was not one of triumph, but of appraisal, as though she was evaluating his reaction. He kept his face composed by sheer force of will, unwilling to betray even a trace of shock or horror. He realized that she wanted him to see this - wanted him there at her side as she re-enacted the destruction of his home for the enjoyment of others. Perhaps she also wanted the others to see him, and by extension to remember what had become of the Galra who hadn't been so compliant, so helpful to their conquerors. Perhaps, he thought, this was why Lotor had decided not to attend - so that he couldn't be used as an object lesson.

"Do you remember when we first met?" she murmured to him, quietly so that no one else would hear. She squeezed his hand in hers as the debris of his homeworld drifted through the air above their heads. 

"How could I forget, your majesty?" Kolivan replied. It had been from the bridge of her ship that he'd watched this destruction the last time. His message of surrender, his offer of service to the Alteans in exchange for his life, had been answered by the then-princess Allura. He had bargained for his safety with the information and equipment he had brought from the lab of his mentor, Honerva, and the princess had decided that offer was a good enough reason to let him live. But she had also required him to watch the demonstration of her power - as she had again this night. 

Allura smiled. "See that you don't, my darling. I haven't forgotten you, after all. Now come - I'm tired of these crowds. Take me away from here." She offered him her arm and, feeling dazed, he took it and escorted her away from the ballroom.

It had been ages since Kolivan had seen the Empress's private quarters, but he still remembered them vividly. Allura had many lovers, and her favourites came and went over the centuries, few remaining constant for very long as they squabbled amongst each other or fell into disfavour or found other paramours and drifted away. Lotor was a notable exception, having enjoyed her favours for longer than anyone else. Kolivan had been granted the privilege of a night with her on many occasions, although more often in the early period of his service to the Empire. He had not been unhappy when she ceased to call on him - maybe a little disappointed, but also in some measure relieved. It freed him to pursue his work more fully, and allowed him to escape the petty dramas of the court. To be so suddenly summoned back to her side was unsettling, and he could not help but think there had to be some reason for it, something he had yet to uncover.

It was difficult to bear that in mind, however, when he was alone with Allura and she was seated on a low couch, watching with playful eyes as he gradually stripped his clothing off. "Now your trousers," she ordered, holding a delicate fan in one hand. "I need to see just how much you've missed me."

"Very much, your majesty." There was no other answer that he would have dared to give, even if his body wasn't plainly showing his desire. He knew his place here. Once he had removed every scrap of clothing, he knelt before his ruler. Even kneeling, he felt like he towered over her, so he lowered his head. "Please, let me see you too?"

Allura stood, and reached out to gently smack him on the chest with her fan. "Be patient, Kolivan. In time." She stroked his fur, running her fingers through the thick pelt at the nape of his neck. "So soft." He leaned into her touch, craving it even though he knew that this was exactly what she wanted from him - to see him submissive, completely under her control, and longing for the smallest scrap of her attention. He was a symbol of her victory in miniature, the triumph of her domination of the Galra, and he knew that he ought to resent it. The chemicals flooding his body were not, however, entirely under his control, and they made his skin flush and a purr rustle low in his throat. 

The Empress smiled, circling around him to continue toying with his fur, reaching up to tease the soft skin of his ears, then stooping to unbraid his hair and let it fall loose down his back. She traced gentle fingers along the scar on his cheek, causing him to close his eyes. He waited for her permission to move, his twitching cock and the quiet hiss of his breath the only indications of his desperate need. 

"Come lie down," she told him at last, moving in the direction of the massive bed that dominated the room. Kolivan stood and followed her, lying down as instructed. She made him watch as she slowly removed her gown, stepping out of its pile of crumpled skirts once it was around her ankles. Underneath it she wore only a few skimpy pieces of fabric, and the arcane Altean marks on her body gleamed in the faint light. She was as beautiful as ever, no longer young by any definition of the word but still looking as soft and youthful as she had ten thousand years ago. She climbed onto the bed, crawling over to him and straddling his stomach. He waited, as patient as he could be, knowing from experience that sooner or later she would let him have what he needed - but she would make him earn it first. 

For a little while longer she trailed her fingers through the hair on his chest, occasionally letting her nails seek out his skin for rougher treatment. Kolivan gasped, his hands practically itching to grab her, throw her down onto the bed, and have his way with her, but such behaviour without her permission would mean certain punishment. Instead he clenched his fists by his sides, forcing himself to remain still. After she was sufficiently ready, she moved up his body, edging closer until her knees were on either side of his face. Her scent, this close, was intoxicating, and even in the faint light he could see how her inner lips glistened with wetness. Still he didn't move to touch her, waiting for her signal. Allura's control had to be absolute, and her trust was fragile enough to be broken by a careless gesture or word at the wrong time.

"Now," she said at last, sliding herself onto his waiting mouth. Kolivan licked her hungrily, devouring her as though he'd been starved for centuries - and perhaps he had. He risked reaching up to grasp her thighs, and worked his tongue into her, savouring the taste. Allura moaned and rocked her hips, grinding herself against his lips. He could feel the strong muscles in her legs quivering, and took some satisfaction from the fact that she was as desperate for release as he was - although she would certainly reach it sooner. Whenever she eased back for a moment he took the opportunity to grab a breath before she lowered herself onto him again. Kolivan kept up the steady pace and before too long she gave a sharp cry and he felt her shudder, her juices smeared across his face. He turned and nipped at her inner thigh, a daring gesture, but fortunately she only gave a breathless chuckle as she slid off to lie beside him.

"You can never truly tame a Galra, it seems," she said, smiling. "No matter how we try to civilize you, you're always a beast at heart."

"A beast you've collared and leashed," he told her, and then wondered at once if he'd gone too far. 

"Would you like that?" she asked him, with an appraising glance. "To be paraded in front of the court, your leash held in my hand, like the obedient pet you are? Because it could be arranged."

"No, your majesty," he said, his face growing warmer at the very idea. "I'd much rather be your pet in private."

"Very well, my pet," she said, stroking his cheek gently. "I suppose it wouldn't do to have my dear Chief Scientist be humiliated quite like that. After all, we need you, now more than ever."

"Do you now?" Kolivan gave a faint smile in return. "How badly do you need me?"

"Oh, very badly," Allura moaned, drawing him over on top of her. Kolivan bared his sharp teeth as he slid inside her - she was so wet and ready for him, and he'd been teased and made to wait for so very long. She wrapped her legs around his hips, digging in with her heels and urging him to fuck her harder. Kolivan thrust into her again and again, feeling like he could lose himself in her body if he let himself. He tried to hold back - not only to make this last longer, but to keep himself from dissolving completely. It was too overwhelming, too intense to withstand. Had it always been like this with her, or was this something more? He couldn't tell, and couldn't stop fucking her long enough to think about it. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, arching his back, aware of the chemicals racing through his bloodstream and yet unable to understand or control them. 

"Say you're mine," Allura begged, driving her nails into his arms. Kolivan gasped and then cried aloud when she went a step further and nipped at him, teeth grazing against his skin hard enough to draw blood. 

"I'm yours," he gasped, and drove himself into her with a heightened ferocity, reaching for the cataclysm that would end him. Maybe that was what he had always been looking for. Right now he would have welcomed it, rather than running from it as he had before. Instead of obliteration, though, he was gripped by an intense spasm of pleasure - exquisite, excruciating pleasure, but not annihilation. It washed over him in harsh bursts, wringing him out but leaving his mind - for now - intact. 

In the clarity that followed, Kolivan felt a gradually dawning uneasiness. Had it simply been so long since he'd had sex with Allura, or anyone else, that the emotional and physical build-up had overwhelmed his usual reticence, leaving him open and vulnerable? Or was something else at work? He lay there next to her, his mind going back again and again to his nightmare of the night before, to Lotor's too-knowing words, to the display of Daibazaal's destruction for the entertainment of the court. He felt as though he was grasping at threads, his mind still hazy from the release and unable to see the pattern they were forming.

Allura lay beside him, lightly stroking his chest. "You should go," she said at last. Kolivan tried to read her intonation - was she colder now, more dismissive, or was that his imagination? He got up slowly, stretched (he felt achy, older than he should have - it had been too long since he'd had to exert himself like that, and his muscles were in open rebellion) and began to dress himself, knowing better than to test her. 

"Good night, your majesty," he said once he was clothed again at last, bowing with the combination of good manners and self-preservation that had served him well these many millennia. "Thank you for inviting me tonight."

"Of course," Allura said with a drowsy smile. "Will you put the blanket over me before you go?"

He did so, drawing it up over her, making sure it was smooth. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he felt oddly protective of her in that moment, seeing her so small and vulnerable, curled up beneath it as he left the room.

The route out of the Imperial palace was convoluted, especially in the middle of the night. Kolivan thought he remembered the way, but must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. He could have tried to flag down a servant and ask them, but that would have meant admitting he was lost - and possibly having to explain why he was still here and wandering around so late at night. He saw a doorway that he thought looked familiar and headed towards it, moving as silently as someone of his size could - he was no master of stealth, but he could be quiet when the occasion demanded it. Pausing at the door before it could open fully, he peeked through to see whether it was the right direction, or whether he was about to barge into someone's private quarters. Beyond was yet another large sitting room, quiet at this hour of night, and at the far end of it was the hallway that led out. Breathing a sigh of relief, he slipped through the door, letting it whisk shut behind him. He moved through the ornate room, taking care not to trip over any furniture. 

"Did you get lost?" came a voice from the darkness. 

Kolivan turned to see Lotor sitting there. He was in a dressing gown, lounging on one of the sofas, and his pale hair was lightly tousled as though he'd been lying down. Had he been lurking there in the dark, waiting for something? Waiting for Kolivan? "I was just on my way home," he replied with as much dignity as he could muster.

"She kicked you out, then?" Lotor asked, sitting up. 

"I could ask you the same question," Kolivan snapped, then immediately wished he hadn't. The late hour and the stress were getting to him. He had a headache, and felt mildly feverish. Too much rich food and drink, perhaps.

Lotor just chuckled. "Go ahead and ask. Or you can just assume you know the entire story, maybe that's easier for someone like you." 

"Someone like me?" Kolivan felt the fur on his neck bristle at the haughty tone. He had the nagging feeling that Lotor was trying to goad him, and worse, that he was allowing the prince to get under his skin. "What is that supposed to mean?" He crossed the room in three long strides, standing in front of Lotor, looming over him.

"You've built a life here," Lotor said. "You've found a way to live, thrive even, among your enemies, even as they work to undermine you. I can only assume your sanity depends on not asking too many hard questions."

Kolivan frowned. "My research is exceedingly demanding. I've grappled with illness, aging, obedience, free will... even death."

"Not that kind of hard question," Lotor said with a dismissive wave. "I mean questions like, did all the other Galra die in the destruction of Daibazaal? Why did the Alteans keep me alive, out of everyone? Exactly how much is my life worth to them? And how much danger am I in if even Coran is trying to warn me?"

His head felt like it was spinning. Kolivan stepped back, turning to leave. "I won't stand here to be insulted by the likes of you."

Lotor was on his feet in an instant, moving faster than Kolivan would have expected, until he had him backed up against one of the sofas. Kolivan stumbled backwards and more fell over than sat down. "The likes of me? You _are_ the likes of me - we're both Galra, or have you forgotten?" Lotor hissed. "Is that an insult to you now, to remember where you come from?"

"Step back, half-breed," Kolivan snarled. "Don't think for one tick that you and I are the same." His threatening tone was somewhat undermined by the fact that he was sprawled on a couch, staring up at Lotor. 

"Are we not?" Lotor arched an eyebrow, sounding dubious. "Well if I'm not close enough to... whatever you've become, there are others who will accept me, even if I _am_ a half-breed."

Kolivan stared at him blankly, not understanding what he meant. "Others? What others?"

"The Guns of Gamara," Lotor whispered. 

"The rebels?" Kolivan would have laughed if it hadn't been so dangerous. Even speaking about them could be risky, especially in the palace. Who knew who might overhear such treasonous talk? But for Lotor to imagine he could join them was ridiculous - just another fancy of a spoiled, sheltered princeling. It was about as realistic as a child running away from home to join the circus. "If this is because you had a spat with Allura and you're trying to get your revenge on her, there are more sensible ways you could do it. Ways less likely to wind up with you dead."

Lotor looked at him with disbelief. "You think this is about a lovers' quarrel? A momentary fit of pique, perhaps? This is about nothing less than the survival of our people. It's worth the risk."

Kolivan frowned. "What people?" 

"The last of the Galra," Lotor told him, keeping his voice low. "A small colony of survivors, some half-breeds like myself, on an isolated planet called Agrillon, in the Namakon system, who will all perish if no one intervenes to save them..."

Kolivan's instinctive suspicion reared its head again. Was this all an elaborate test of his loyalty? Was their conversation being monitored and scanned for any signs of betrayal? "Don't be an idiot. This is the last place we should be discussing this," he said through clenched teeth. "Why are you even telling me any of this?"

"Because," Lotor said quietly, "my mother trusted you once. And I believe that she knew what she was doing. That despite everything that's happened, you haven't forgotten everything she taught you."

Struggling to his feet, Kolivan tried to shake off the dizzy, lightheaded feeling. His headache had returned, as well, and he wanted only to get out of here, away from Lotor and the palace and all of these complications. "I... I need to go," he stammered.

Lotor didn't prevent him from leaving, but did call out to his retreating back as he staggered away, "Sweet dreams, Kolivan. You might want to check your readouts. We'll talk again soon." 

Kolivan stumbled out of the door, breathing in the cool night air with shaky gasps. Everything felt off-balance, and as he summoned his automated carriage to come pick him up, he considered simply going home and falling into bed. It would have been a relief to pull the blankets over his head and pretend that none of the previous evening's events had happened. But somehow he knew that if he did so, sleep would evade him - or perhaps be troubled by nightmares once more. There was too much that was making him uneasy, even setting aside his physical discomfort. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, feeling the fur there damp with sweat. When the carriage arrived, rather than going home, he instead directed it to his lab.

The laboratory was quiet, with most of the staff long since gone home, and the research subjects deep into their scheduled sleep cycles. A few sentries monitored the facility's entrances and patrolled the grounds to ensure that nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Of course, as the Empire's head scientist, Kolivan had all of the necessary access codes to permit him to enter the lab at any hour. His head still felt like it was swimming, and he had to stop and lean against the wall several times as he made his way to his office. When he was finally there, he sank gratefully into his chair. It was tempting to regulate his biochemistry into a more restful state - to ease the stress and discomfort he was feeling, allow the soothing chemicals to wash over him and perhaps even permit himself to forget the past several vargas. Instead, he called up the files he'd neglected earlier - his own readouts for the past several quintants.

He looked over them carefully, alert to any anomalous data. To the untrained eye it might have appeared as a meaningless string of numbers and graphs, but Kolivan was far from untrained. The abnormal readings quickly became obvious to him. He could see elevated levels of scourium, far beyond what should have been in his system. The levels had been increasing gradually, so slowly it would have been imperceptible to him at the time, until it was too late. At levels this high, he would be subject to increased anger, anxiety, even hallucinations...

Kolivan fumbled to draw up his implants' current output, so that he could modulate the levels of scourium currently flowing through his veins, and isolate the source of the chemical. His hands were clammy with sweat and the display before him seemed unwilling to obey his commands. Data scrolled past him and swirled around him incomprehensibly quickly, but the system refused to call up the information he needed, giving him irrelevant patient files and inspection reports instead. He slammed his fist on the panel before him in frustration, trying to regain some measure of control over his information stream, his emotions - over his entire life.

The whirl of charts and figures slowed and came to a halt, and Kolivan stared at it, trying to seize some scrap of meaning from it. It was the report Aktell had told him about... had it only been the previous morning? The Imperial inspector's review of his research facility. Kolivan struggled to grasp what he was seeing. The report was confusing, or perhaps he was simply in no state to try and make sense of it. It spoke of failed experiments, and seemed to imply some sinister misuse of Imperial funds, but Kolivan was unable to piece it together - it bore no relation to the reality of his work, at least not as far as he could tell. Aktell had given him no sign that the inspector's review had been so critical... 

The inspector's image was in the upper corner of the file, and he looked strangely familiar. Kolivan's mind seemed to be moving too slowly, like slogging through mud, but at last it came to him. The man with the glasses, the one he'd seen at the party speaking with Commander Hira! His bland smile now seemed vaguely ominous as he stared out at Kolivan from behind his round spectacles. 

Kolivan's head was spinning. It felt as though the universe was shaking around him, everything he had been sure of now in doubt. 

As he looked up, he saw through the blur of data - or was it his own vision that was blurring? - and made out a figure standing on the opposite side of his desk. The room was darkened except for the glow of his readouts, and for a moment he thought he recognized Honerva. Her familiar slender build, her long hair hanging loose, half-covering her face, her head bowed. It couldn't be her, of course. The still-rational part of his mind told him that she had died long ago. Perhaps it was an hallucination brought on by the levels of scourium in his system, or by the unwelcome memories that had been brought up by the events of the ball earlier.  
_Kolivan,_ she murmured. _My best student, and my greatest disappointment. You've accomplished so much, but at such a cost. In taking free will, you've given up your own... And you couldn't even protect my son..._

The scar on his cheek felt like it was burning, and he raised a hand to it almost unconsciously. It would have been easy to have it fixed, of course, but he had left it as a reminder - a reminder of where he had come from and what he had gone through to be here. A reminder that he had very nearly forgotten.

The figure before him wavered, its form changing. He blinked, and suddenly it was Allura standing before him, her hair flowing over her shoulders, her gaze filled with a mix of disappointment and regret. _You could have gone so far, my darling,_ she said - or rather, her mouth didn't move, but the words echoed in his mind nonetheless. _I didn't ask for so very much - only your loyalty, and you couldn't even give me that. I'm very disappointed, Kolivan._

Kolivan tried to protest that he hadn't betrayed her, that if his loyalty had wavered it hadn't fallen, but his heart knew the truth. He fell to his knees, shaken. Some tiny, almost-extinguished spark in his mind told him that it wasn't really happening, that his emotions were out of control and he was very likely hallucinating because of the chemicals flooding his system. His hands trembling, he managed to finally, with considerable effort, call up the interface that controlled his neurochemistry, and lower the levels of scourium from the absurd heights they had reached. 

The image of Allura faded, becoming translucent, and Kolivan almost sobbed with relief. He was still crouching on the floor, shivering uncontrollably, when he realized that although Allura had vanished, there was still someone standing there in the doorway. His eyes struggled to focus and he finally made sense of what he was seeing - perhaps what he had been seeing since the start. His assistant Aktell stood there, prim and neat as always, looking down at him with something like disgust mingled with pity.

"Help," Kolivan managed to choke out. "S-scourium..."

"Yes, your levels are very unbalanced," she said calmly. "Perhaps some lathrazene will help modulate the response." To Kolivan's horror, she pulled up a copy of his charts and adjusted a few settings. It shouldn't have been possible for her to alter his biochemistry - she could tinker with their research subjects, to be sure, and her position permitted her access to the minds of those inhabitants of the Empire who had been fitted with the hoktril, but she shouldn't have been able to gain control of the charts of a fellow scientist, especially not her superior! Only someone who outranked him could have gained that kind of access...

"Why?" Kolivan mumbled. He could already feel the lathrazene starting to take effect, smoothing away the anxiety and anger, muffling everything like a comforting blanket. He knew he should be upset about this, that something very important was going on and he needed to try to make sense of it, but it was beginning to seem very distant and unimportant, like something that had happened thousands of years ago and was no longer relevant to him.

"Oh, you're interested in my opinion now?" Aktell glanced down at him. "How novel. None of our tests had been conducted on Galra subjects - so far. Your reactions were not quite what I would have expected. Don't worry," she added, stepping over his prone body to flick through his data, which was still floating in midair around them. "These results will prove useful in more effectively controlling any further Galra the Empire needs to subdue. When I'm director, I'll make sure this data doesn't go to waste." She flicked her finger to adjust a few more of his levels, thought he couldn't see what. "Now, go to sleep. I'll deal with you later."

Kolivan struggled against the rising tide of oblivion, feeling himself sinking deeper and deeper, until soon it overtook him and he was swallowed by darkness.

He didn't know how long had passed when he managed to open his eyes once more. The office was dark, the door closed, and the floor was damp under his face where he had drooled on it. He tried to push himself up, but his arms felt weak, bending under him like noodles. The edges of everything felt blurred by the lathrazene, even as beneath its muffling layer he could still feel the panic and rage induced by the scourium. The chemicals were battling one another inside his body, and he felt sick and exhausted. It took him several attempts to even manage to roll over, and when he finally did, he lay there on his back, trying to catch his breath and stop his head from spinning. 

His eyes came to rest on the blade hanging on his wall. Its edge glinted with a faint gleam that stood out in the darkened room and caught his attention, even when everything else seemed foggy and unclear. Kolivan focused on it, using it as something steady to fix his gaze on as he struggled to sit up. He reached out, grasping the edge of his desk to pull himself to his feet with a groan. It occurred to him that he didn't know where Aktell was, or whether she might yet return to finish him off, and that it would be better if he could keep quiet - and arm himself. 

His fingers closed around the hilt of the knife, tugging it loose from where it was mounted on the wall. It felt strange to have it in his hand, disgustingly barbaric and yet reassuring at the same time. His mind, still clouded with surging chemicals, drifted to the long-ago reminiscence of receiving it as a young man, a token of honour bestowed upon him by Zarkon himself for his valued service to the Galra empire. He had been so proud then, and eager to serve his ruler - and his people, his home. It had been something he had chosen, a responsibility assumed willingly. How had he forgotten? Kolivan trembled, shaken by the resurfacing of the buried memory, and his reflection in the blade's surface seemed to waver in his hands - or was it tears that were blurring his vision?

He needed to get himself under control, starting with bringing his levels back to normal. With a wave of his free hand, he tried to call up his personal charts, but there was no response. He gestured again, to no avail. Not even the swirling chaos of information he'd been faced with earlier, but simply blackness. He had been locked out of his own data, which shouldn't have been possible for someone of his position and security clearance. Somehow that knowledge - that someone else had control of his body's biochemistry and could manipulate it at will, and that there was nothing he could do about it - was more chilling than anything else. 

The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside made him stiffen and turn, raising the knife into a defensive position as he crouched, an instinctive motion to try and protect himself, even though he was so weak and dazed that he doubted he could do much harm to anyone. The steps came closer, pausing for a moment outside the door, and Kolivan held as still as he could, trying to avoid making any sound, holding his breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead, whether from the fever he was sure he was still running, or the sheer panic of the situation. From the sound of things, he thought there was only one person out there - if it was Aktell, if he had somehow alerted her by trying to call up his biorecords, maybe he could take her down if he surprised her. He might be in a weakened state, but he was still bigger than her, and she wouldn't be expecting it...

When the door slid open, Kolivan threw himself forward with a roar, plowing into the slim figure that stood outside, toppling them both to the ground. He was holding the knife poised only a finger's breadth from the person's face, snarling, before he realized it was Lotor. Even still, it took him a moment to restrain himself from just following through with the blow, and it was frightening how easy it would have been. Lotor fought back, though, showing a surprising strength for one so slender, and managed to shove Kolivan off of him. "Some welcome," he grumbled, dusting himself off. 

"Why are you here?" Kolivan asked, trying to puzzle out what was going on. "Where's Aktell? She's conspiring against me with Commander Hira and her inspector, whatever his name is... manipulating my input levels... they've locked me out of my own files..." He knew it sounded paranoid, as well as probably rambling and incoherent, but he hoped Lotor would believe him. 

"I've arranged for a distraction," Lotor told him, still brushing himself off. "When I checked your readouts earlier, I saw that your heart rate and respiration were dangerously low, and I thought it wise to intervene. I - we can't afford to lose you."

Kolivan would normally have been annoyed at the prospect of someone else monitoring his levels, but under the circumstances it seemed inappropriate to complain. "Can you access them?" he asked. "If you can, I need you to reduce my levels of scourium and lathrazene."

Prince Lotor shook his head. "I don't have that high a security clearance - I can see them, but I can't alter them. It would need to be someone who outranks us both - or someone can get around the system's restrictions in some other fashion." He glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of some commotion from elsewhere in the lab. "The distraction is well underway, it sounds like."

Kolivan could hear shouts and the pounding of numerous feet - it was coming from the patient wing, and that couldn't be good. "What did you do?" he demanded.

Lotor shrugged. "I unlocked all your research subjects' cells. They're free, or at least as free as they can be under the circumstances. We need to go."

"Agreed," Kolivan said, and quickly followed Lotor out the back way, running from what was increasingly sounding like a riot. He clutched the knife tighter, unwilling to risk dropping it in his flight. It was anchoring him, giving him something to cling to when everything else was falling apart. He was Galra - he would survive this, as he had survived the destruction of his homeworld and his race. 

The prince had an automated carriage waiting for them, gleaming and elegant. Kolivan sank gratefully into the cushioned seat, gasping for breath. The run out of the facility had taken a lot out of him, and he realized he was chilled and shivering uncontrollably. Lotor gave him a look and without a word passed his cloak over so that Kolivan could wrap himself in it and try to warm up. 

The sleek, smooth carriage carried them silently through the pre-dawn streets. Kolivan wondered where Lotor was taking them - in his dazed state at first he thought they were going back to the palace, but surely that couldn't be the case, not after all that had happened. If she was awake, the Empress might even know by now of the chaos that had erupted at his lab, and she would be able to draw her own conclusions from that... No, Kolivan was relatively sure they were fleeing, although he had no idea to where.

"They've been trying to discredit you with the Empress for a while," Lotor told him, breaking the uneasy silence. 

"Who have?" asked Kolivan, still shivering.

"Hira and her supporters," Lotor said. "She found something on one of her missions - I don't know what it was, but it's powerful. Dangerous. And she wants to be the one in control of it, but she knows that as the Chief Scientist, it would be your jurisdiction. So they've tried to undermine Allura's trust in you - and meanwhile, manipulating your biochemistry to make you unstable, vulnerable... They probably brought your assistant on board by promising her that she'd assume your position once you were removed." He looked at Kolivan, concerned, and put his hand out to touch his forehead. "You're chilled. You look wretched. Let me help." He moved closer, wrapping his arm around Kolivan to let him lean against him, sharing his warmth.

Kolivan nodded, pulling the cloak tighter around him. It seemed impossible to get warm, and he wasn't sure if what Lotor was saying made any sense or not, or whether he should be wary of such close contact with the prince. It did feel a little better, though, having his arm around him. "Why didn't you just tell me earlier?"

Lotor chuckled. "You wouldn't have believed me - not without some kind of proof, which I didn't have beyond overheard conversations." 

"That is... probably true," Kolivan admitted grudgingly. "The associates you mentioned back there - are they part of the Guns of Gamara?"

"Yes," said Lotor. "I made contact some time ago with one of their infiltration teams stationed here. Assuming all goes well, we're going to meet up with them at the eastern spaceport and they'll help us get out of here." 

Kolivan nodded, but then shook his head. "I can't go like this," he told Lotor. "My chemicals are so out of balance, the strain on my system could kill me. Or worse. I might as well have a hoktril implanted, if they continue to control my settings. At any moment they could adjust my levels of certain chemicals far enough to turn me into a mindless lump of flesh. I need to get control of myself again."

Lotor frowned. "Like I said, it would take someone with a higher security clearance than mine... Coran!" he exclaimed abruptly. "He could do it - if he was willing."

Kolivan tried to weigh the options before him, but his mind was still muddled. All he knew was that he couldn't keep going like this, and the longer he waited, the more chance there was of one of his enemies deciding to turn him into a walking vegetable. At least he'd never thought of Coran as an enemy - maybe even as a friend. "Contact him," he agreed. It was risky, but he didn't have any better options before him.

The screen in the carriage flickered to life and Coran's face floated before them. He looked somewhat bleary-eyed, as though he'd been pulled out of bed to answer the call, but when he saw who was on the other end he became instantly alert. "There's just been a bulletin issued listing you as traitors to be detained on sight," he told them.

"Already?" Lotor sighed. "I hoped we'd have a little more lead time..."

"Never mind about that," Kolivan interrupted him. "Coran, I need you to access me - my mind, I mean. I don't have control of my own system anymore."

"Ah, that's why I never had one of those ridiculous things implanted," Coran muttered. "No one gets to muck about in my brain but me - and maybe the occasional mind-worm!"

"Fine," Kolivan said with a grimace. "But you have the necessary clearance to put my permissions back to normal."

Coran arched his eyebrow slightly, toying with one point of his silver mustache. "To restore system access to a known fugitive? What kind of man do you take me for?"

"A decent one," Kolivan said, leaning forward in his seat as though he could impress the urgency of the situation upon Coran. "And one who's going to need to keep the Empress safe once I'm gone. Things may be about to get very bad around here."

There was a long pause as Coran considered, during which time Kolivan felt like several empires could have risen and fallen. At last, the Altean nodded and made a few quick gestures, off the edge of the viewscreen. "There," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be erasing all traces of this conversation. Good luck to you both," he added, glancing at Lotor, who gave him a respectful nod.

Kolivan wasted no time once the call was terminated pulling up his biorecords on the carriage's viewscreen. It was a relief to have control of it again, even as he was filled with alarm at the way many of his readings were spiking red. He quickly worked to bring them under control, lowering the levels to his usual baselines, and felt an almost immediate improvement. His heart slowed to something closer to its normal rate, his feverish chills began to fade, and his mind felt as though a fog had been lifted from it. It would still take a little while for the chemicals that were already present to clear his system, but at least he wasn't being pumped full of ever-increasing doses.

"Better?" Lotor asked him, checking his forehead again. He didn't let go, Kolivan noticed, even though he clearly sensed his improvement. It was as though the prince was still actively concerned for him.

"Somewhat," Kolivan said, acutely aware of how close they were.

"Good," Lotor replied, and, to Kolivan's surprise, kissed him. It was a short kiss, nothing long and drawn out, but it was powerful nevertheless. It was followed by an awkward pause, until finally Lotor said, "Perhaps we can talk about that later..." At that moment the carriage came to an abrupt halt, interrupting any further conversation on the matter as they slammed into the seats across from them.

"Quiznak!" Lotor slammed his hand against the vehicle's control panel, which was non-responsive. "They must have shut down my carriage to try and stop us from getting away."

"Get out and run," Kolivan told him, forcing one of the doors open. "They can't shut down our legs."

"Actually," said Lotor as Kolivan all but dragged him out of the carriage, "with the right combination of chemicals I'm pretty sure they can."

"Yes, but it might take them a little while to figure that out," Kolivan said, hoping desperately that he was right.

Fortunately they weren't far from the spaceport, and the sun was just below the horizon as they approached it, slowing their pace to keep watch for sentries in the grey pre-dawn light. Kolivan crouched lower, knowing that his large size made him stand out more easily, and kept a tight grip on the hilt of his knife. Lotor crept forward, looking around a corner, then beckoned for him to follow. They dashed across the open stretch of ground and around a section of wall that would hopefully keep them hidden as they evaluated their approach. Lotor pointed to a ship, not one of the elite Imperial vessels he would normally use, but a less-flashy cargo ship, and together they began carefully making their way towards it. 

"HALT," came the mechanical voice of a sentry from off to their right. It had its gun trained on them, and was no doubt signalling for more of its fellows to join it. They had no time to lose. Kolivan and Lotor made eye contact, exchanging a short nod. Then Lotor ran in one direction, drawing its fire, and while it was distracted, Kolivan charged it, quickly slashing it with his blade so that it fell motionless and silent to the ground. It was over in only a few ticks. Kolivan hurried over to Lotor, checking whether he was all right, and when he found him to be uninjured, they both broke into a run, knowing that other guards would soon arrive. 

The bay doors of the ship stood open, and a dark-haired man Kolivan didn't recognize - not an Altean, though - stepped forward from within it, armed with a gun. Kolivan froze, expecting that they were about to be shot by the ship's owner, but instead Lotor grinned. "Sven!" he said, and moved to clap the man on the shoulder. "I was hoping you'd be here."

"Hurry up," the man said, beckoning them into the ship with a jerk of his chin, covering them with his weapon trained, picking off several sentries with practiced aim as they approached. As soon as they were on board, he drew up the ramp and closed the door behind them. "Let's go, Slav!" he shouted, hurrying to the ship's cockpit. Lotor and Kolivan held on to whatever they could grab as the ship lurched ungracefully into the air.

As soon as they were stabilized, Kolivan used the ship's terminal and called up his biorecords - most readings remained normal, although his heart rate and adrenaline levels were elevated, as he'd expected after the fight. "What are you doing?" Lotor asked, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the ship's boosters.

"Making sure they can't control me again," he growled. He tore open the sleeve of his tunic and felt along the muscles of his forearm, searching for the almost-invisible scar from the master implant that connected him to the network. When he found it, he carefully dug the tip of his blade into his skin. It hurt, but he gritted his teeth and carried on until he felt the knife's edge hit the small device and he could pull it out. With blood running down his arm, Kolivan tossed the tiny piece of metal aside. Lotor's eyes were wide as he watched Kolivan wrap the injury with his torn sleeve.

The ship jolted sharply, making Kolivan relieved that he wasn't still performing impromptu surgery on himself. "Hang on tight!" called the man named Sven from the front of the vessel. "They're hot on our tail, we need to take evasive maneuvers!"

Lotor and Kolivan braced themselves as the ship was buffeted from side to side. It was to all appearances a cargo ship, but it was surprisingly nimble - or maybe that was down to the skill of the pilots. A voice crackled from the communications system. "This is Commander Hira. I order you to land this vessel immediately or you will be destroyed, by the authorization of Empress Allura."

"If we land you'll just kill us anyway," Sven pointed out, sounding almost cheerful about it. "I think we'll take our chances."

Kolivan was still shaken by the commander's claim that the Empress herself had authorized her to shoot them down. Yes, the situation was dire - and perhaps she had been manipulated by a faction within the court who wanted to see him removed from the picture. But only the night before, he had held her in his arms... Could she really have changed her mind so swiftly? Or had that all been a lie as well?

"It doesn't have to end like this," came a soft, sweet voice. Kolivan turned his head to see the Empress standing before him - or rather, by the faint blue glow that outlined her shape, a hologram representation of the Empress projected into the ship's cargo bay. Allura smiled, looking over to Lotor and then back to him. "Why are you running, my loves?"

"Who are you talking to?" called Sven, shouting over the continued blaring of Commander Hira's voice ordering them to surrender, and the firing of blasters.

"Just fly and let us worry about this!" Lotor replied. 

Kolivan met her brilliant blue eyes. "Why are you ordering us to be shot down?"

Allura's expression looked pained. "You released the research subjects at your facility. Several were killed. You're fleeing in the company of known rebels. You've even cut yourself off from the rest of the biocontrol network. What other conclusion should I draw but that you've betrayed me? Surrender peacefully, allow Commander Hira to bring you into custody, and we can talk this over like civilized people. We _are_ all civilized people, aren't we?"

"Do you expect us to believe that?" Lotor asked, dumbfounded. "She's currently trying to kill us. "

Kolivan could almost hear Allura's sigh. "I didn't want to have to do this," she said sorrowfully. Her slender fingers moved in intricate patterns, and suddenly Lotor dropped to the floor of the ship with a scream. Kolivan rushed over to him, half-lifting his body, checking him for injuries, but there was no visible mark on him - although it was obvious he was being racked with pain. She had to be controlling his biological implants, maybe sending shocks through his nerve endings or flooding his veins with acid, Kolivan couldn't tell from here except that it was clearly agonizing. 

Allura gazed impassively at them both. "Return, and his torment will end. Keep fleeing, and I will kill him."

Frantically, Kolivan tried to find the location of Lotor's master implant, hoping that he could remove it as he'd done with his own. He didn't know precisely where it was, though, and Lotor was certainly in no condition to tell him. He could hardly go searching around in the prince's arm with a knife in a ship that was being hammered by blasts from much larger military vessels. And the more he thought about what Allura had said... "You're going to kill him either way," he said under his breath.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the pallid glow of his biorecords was still hovering in midair above the cargo ship's stationary terminal. With a panicked, last-ditch effort he threw himself across the ship towards it, leaving Lotor writhing on the floor. He desperately hoped that there might be something he could do. His palm and retinal scans cleared the system swiftly. Apparently his security clearances were active - Coran must have restored them as well, and in all the commotion perhaps no one had bothered to check whether they were still revoked. His fingers hovered over the commands for a tick before he decided there was no other option.

Allura saw what he was doing in the moment before he did it, and an expression of alarm crossed her face as she tried to counteract his security access, but it was too late. Kolivan entered the general override command, punching it home, and looked over to Lotor, who had gone alarmingly still on the metal floor of the ship. 

"What did you do?" screamed Allura, searching frantically to try and figure out what files he had accessed.

Commander Hira's voice, which had until a few moments before still been issuing period commands to stand down, broke into a shriek, followed by the sounds of a struggle, and Kolivan knew his plan had worked, although at a terrible cost. "I shut down all the biocontrollers and purged the records. It was the fastest way to stop you from killing him." At least, he hoped it had been fast enough... 

Allura looked horrified. "The hoktril!"

"Yes... those as well," he told her. "It sounds like Commander Hira is having some trouble with her service crew. You might want to take precautions, Empress. Your slaves are free, and I doubt they'll be in a forgiving mood."

With a gasp, Allura slammed her hand down on the panel and her hologram flickered and vanished. Kolivan rushed to Lotor and knelt down, cradling him in his arms, afraid he had been too late. He was pale, his lips an unhealthy-looking shade of faded violet, and at first it was difficult to tell if he was even breathing. Then, to Kolivan's relief, he shuddered, drawing a deep, raspy gasp, and opened his eyes. "What happened?" he asked hoarsely.

Kolivan smiled, holding him close. "You're free, you're safe, she can't hurt you anymore - we're all free. The rest can wait until we get away." The ship was out of the planet's atmosphere by now, their pursuers falling away as they were overrun from within by the slaves he had helped create - and had now freed, to whatever fates awaited them. Kolivan didn't know if he could ever make up for the atrocities he had committed in the name of Altea's peaceful empire, and he doubted whether the tenuous freedom he had created would last long - the empire's scientists would surely work to restore their control over their subjects. But now that he had broken free, he intended to spend the rest of his life, however long or short that might be, helping others gain a more permanent freedom if that was what they wanted. It was terrifying, but when Lotor smiled up at him, he knew it was worth the fight.

"Where are we going?" he asked, feeling around on the floor for the knife he had dropped in his panic, and sliding it safely into his belt.

"The Namakon system," Lotor told him, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "I want to find out what the Galra there are like. Maybe we can recruit some allies."

"Vrepit sa," Kolivan said, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. Maybe there was still some hope after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the mods of the [Galra Big Bang](https://galrabigbang.tumblr.com/) for organizing such a great event, and to Freddy for [the lovely artwork](https://freddy-draws-and-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/172290191356/my-piece-for-the-galrabigbang-for-naryrising-s)!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


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